


tough, every minute of every day

by remembermyfic



Series: 2019 Snail Mail Advent Calendars [10]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Discussions of Brain Surgery, M/M, Non Graphic Depictions of Medical Procedures, Surgeons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23578105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remembermyfic/pseuds/remembermyfic
Summary: Anya’s his first. The first case that had been his and his alone in the NICU. You don’t pick favourites, especially in the NICU, but Anya’s his favourite.Connor’s eyes are intense. Too intense. “She’ll be okay.”“You can’t say that.”
Relationships: Jack Eichel/Connor McDavid
Series: 2019 Snail Mail Advent Calendars [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564486
Comments: 16
Kudos: 109





	tough, every minute of every day

**Author's Note:**

> If you know the people, click out. I will say this until you understand. 
> 
> K asked for this like, last summer. She got it at Christmas. You guys get it now :) 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: in case you missed them in the tags, there is mention of both medical procedures and discussions of brain surgery. There are no details because I was not really into going down that relatively depressing rabbit hole. 
> 
> ALSO: there's more than once mention of the neonatal intensive care unit and what being a surgeon in that department may mean. 
> 
> Look. It's a medical AU without many details because I did not research shit. I used a lot of what I vaguely remember from Grey's Anatomy and that's a fictional television show. 
> 
> **Please proceed with caution and kindness to yourself and your author.**

“I’ve got her, you know.”

Jack’s pen freezes over his report, eyes slowly lifting to where neurosurgeon Connor McDavid is slowly stirring very old coffee. Jack can’t even blame him. He’d heard about the 12 hours Connor had spent in the OR. At that point, even Jack has to admit he probably wouldn’t care much about how old the coffee was either.

“Anya.”

“I knew who you were talking about.”

Anya’s his first. The first case that had been his and his alone in the NICU. You don’t pick favourites, especially in the NICU, but Anya’s his favourite.

Connor’s eyes are intense. Too intense. “She’ll be okay.”

“You can’t say that,” Jack says, and there is too much heat in the words. Logically, Jack knows Connor’s the best at what he does, a protege of the highest order. If Anya has to have fucking brain surgery, and Jack’s held at gun point, he is 100% fighting for Connor to do the surgery. But he also knows that those are empty promises for Connor to make.

Connor’s eyes are still hard. “Not to the parents,” he concedes. “But I’m not saying it to the parents.”

“You can’t say that to me either.”

It’s a lot of a confession. Jack is invested in Anya. He’s too invested in Anya. Even when he’d handed the case over to Marner he’d been too invested.

“I am saying it to you,” Connor replies, steady and steadfast. It’s fucking annoying. “Regardless of… I’ve fucking got her.”

Jack leaves his paperwork and walks out.

“You hurt McSurgeon’s feelings.”

Jack doesn’t smoke because he sure as hell knows what it does to a person’s insides, but moments like these make him wish he did. “Who’d you hear it from?”

Noah settles beside him. “Matthews. Who heard it from Marner, who heard it from the superstar himself.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t go around making empty promises.”

“I don’t know,” Noah says, because he pretends to be the voice of reason against Jack’s temper. “He has the skill to cash in on those promises, doctor to doctor.”

Which. Fucking of course Jack knows Connor won’t do anything stupid. He knows that Connor will do everything - quite literally - to make sure any of his patients pull through surgery. Doctor-to-doctor is a dumb code. Connor’s not promising the world, so much as promising Anya will get the best care.

“It’s a last chance.”

Noah shrugs. “A lot of what we do are last chances, Jack. The shit you pull in the NICU is beyond last chances. Some of those kids don’t have lungs.”

Jack snorts despite himself. It was once and he still does not know how Colton pulled through. Five years later and the kid’s going into first grade, happy and not severely limited by respiratory issues.

“Look, in your shoes, knowing you like I do, I’d be terrified too. All I’m saying is maybe don’t take it out on the dude who’s going to save her life. Again.”

It is not that easy, which is how Jack finds himself dressed down, in Anya’s hospital room the day McDavid goes over the surgical details with Anya and her parents.

“And then that’s it, right? No more surgeries.”

Jack watches the whole room go stiff, sees the way McDavid glances at him. If he makes a promise to Anya…

“How many times have you been told no more surgeries?”

The question takes even Jack aback.

Anya considers the question. “A lot.”

“Yeah,” Connor agrees. “I wish I could promise you no more. But that’s not the reality here.”

“But needing more isn’t likely, right?” Anya’s father asks. “That’s why we agreed-“

“It’s the best thing for her,” Jack finds himself saying, folding his arms over his chest. “Dr McDavid is saying it’s a non-zero chance. We can’t promise zero. That’s irresponsible.”

“We can’t do more surgery.”

Jack knows that’s about emotion. The family knows their medical bills will never be a problem as long as Anya’s on Jack’s radar. So he looks to Connor, whose eyes are fixed back on Jack.

“McDavid.”

Connor jolts and clears his throat. “We’re going to do everything we can to make sure this is it,” he repeats. “But we’re also trying to be honest.” Connor’s eyes return to Jack. “We don’t make promises we can’t keep.”

All eyes turn to Jack.

“Is he being honest?” Anya’s mother asks.

It feels like a make or break moment. Jack watches Connor for a moment before he looks to Anya. “You trust me?”

“The most,” Anya replies easily.

“Dr McDavid is the best and I trust him. I would tell you if he was lying.”

Anya holds out her pinkie. “Promise?”

It’s so easy to link his pinkie with hers. “Promise.”

Connor’s watching - again, it feels like he’s been watching Jack the whole time - when Jack looks up. “We’ll come get you in a bit.”

Jack’s up in observation watching Connor and Evgeni Malkin, specially called in for the surgery, prep the OR. Connor is being beyond thorough, Jack can see it, meticulous to the point of being an asshole. If Jack’s being honest, he appreciates it.

Marner showing up he doesn’t appreciate so much.

“You know she’s mine too, but I’m not out here terrifying her surgeon.”

“It’s healthy motivation.”

“Jack.”

When Marner doesn’t immediately follow that up with anything, Jack turns to him. Marner’s not generally serious. It’s what makes him so good with the kids in his care. He’s serious now.

“I don’t think you realize how much Connor respects you.”

Jack rolls his eyes.

“No, listen. For once in your goddamn life.”

“Excuse you.”

“Connor’s never nervous. You don’t become a premiere neurosurgeon so young by letting things get to you. But Anya’s surgery… he’s double and triple checking. He’s pissing Malkin off to make sure it’s impossible for anything to go wrong. It’s beyond his usual meticulousness because this matters to you.”

Mitch’s chest is heaving when he’s done and Jack’s heart is in his throat.

“This is about you. It’s always been about you.”

Jack looks back down at the OR to find Connor looking up. He waves awkwardly. Jack has no idea what possesses him to give a thumbs up back.

Anya makes it through surgery like a trooper. Her parents are long gone from observation, anxious to be by their daughter’s side again, but Jack’s legs still aren’t steady. He’s still in the observatory, head bent, elbows on his knees.

Which is where Connor finds him, startles him, really, bursting through the door.

“Jack. Jack, fuck.”

He’s a whirlwind, lit up with the thrill of success. It’s a good look on him and maybe that’s what has Jack’s heart thumping. He rises without consciously thinking about it, catches Connor when he essentially launches himself at Jack.

“Jack.”

“You were amazing,” Jack finds himself saying, too relieved to be snarky.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck, Connor, of course.”

They’re both panting, too close, when Connor says, “That may have been the first time you’ve called me Connor.”

Jack has nothing to say to that. It doesn’t seem to matter to Connor, who still has him by the elbows, who’s leaning in. Jack 100% sees it coming. He doesn’t move away. There’s desperation in the kiss, a release of pent up frustration, anxiety and other haywire emotions. It tempers after a few minutes, settles and Jack finds himself reluctant to pull away. It’s still not as embarrassing as they way Connor tries to follow him when they pull away. Jack gets a hand on his chest, not pushing, just holding. Connor’s eyes blink open, hot and intense.

“I’m not that kind of guy,” he says. “At least take me to dinner first.”

“Now?”

“Eager Dr McDavid?”

“Starving from a crazy surgery,” Connor answers, “but also yes. Jack, you don’t know.”

“Maybe not,” Jack agrees. “But I’m starting to.”


End file.
